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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23840347">Behind the Bedroom Door</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic'>Wetislandinthenorthatlantic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mollcroft in the time of Covid-19 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awesome Molly Hooper, COVID, F/M, Fluff, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Secret Relationship, Sherlock is a Brat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:14:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23840347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>London is in lockdown and Sherlock is bored. He wants to know who is hiding behind Molly's bedroom door.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Molly Hooper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mollcroft in the time of Covid-19 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695943</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Behind the Bedroom Door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiefDoctor/gifts">ChiefDoctor</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the second fic in my covid-19 series. </p>
<p>The prompt from @chiefdoctor was "Molly and Mycroft have been having a secret relationship for some time. It is discovered when they are found quarantining together."</p>
<p>I do not own these characters. Big clip for my beta @obotlightfiken!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The knock on the door was too insistent to be the Ocado driver with her weekly shop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A quick tap was the norm now. Open the door to food waiting on the mat. No more delivery drivers walking the bags into the kitchen and having a cheeky little chat while the provisions were quickly dumped on the counter so he could take the bags away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” Molly called through the closed door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s me. Open up,” replied a familiar baritone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly Molly unlocked the door, planning on only opening it a crack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As usual, give Sherlock an inch and he takes a mile</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought Molly as the consulting detective blew right past her into her living room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Sherlock. You know the rules. You can’t be here.” Digging deep Molly used her best authoritative doctor voice hoping to get through Sherlock’s thick skull. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think my brother must have come up with that one. Only a true introvert could conceive of a whole nation staying in. Ridiculous,” he added under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is not ridiculous. This virus is serious. I’m isolating and you have to leave. Now.” Molly emphatically pointed to the door. It only caused Sherlock to give a casual glance in that direction. Instead of even pretending to obey Molly’s request Sherlock stood still. Hands on his hips looking out of her third-floor window to the empty streets below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine. John has been deployed to NHS Nightingale.  He’s been given a hotel room next door for the duration. Rosie is with John’s parents in Norfolk. And my dear brother has gone AWOL since this all kicked off. </span>
  <span>He’s either in the Whitehall bunker or escaped to some James Bond-esque arctic spa. I’m sure he will appear only when the coast is clear. And you— you are a chronic rule follower. I doubt you have stepped foot outside your flat since the official lock-down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Molly pursed her lips and swallowed hard at the mention of Mycroft trying to keep her breathing steady to give Sherlock no cause for notice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not fine.”  Dealing with obstinate Sherlock on a normal day was trying. But at the moment nothing about life was normal. Everything was out of whack and Molly could feel her nerves fraying much faster than usual— and apparently so could Sherlock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Molly,” Sherlock gave her the smile he reserved for when he stepped over the line and needed to placate her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Given the research you have published on SARS, AIDS and Ebola you are not on the front line. I’ve read your papers and I can spot your work a mile away. It is most certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> running the numbers for Public Health England frantically trying to unravel COVID-19’s mysteries. Let me help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the warm feeling Sherlock’s, very rare and very flattering words gave Molly under her breastbone she still needed him gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need your help. I just need you to go home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pleasssse.” Flattery morphed into begging as Sherlock flopped onto the couch. It was difficult for Molly not to snigger at the 30-something child having a temper tantrum in front of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone is at home. No lost cats. No bodies washed up in Docklands. Although I will admit there has been a steady stream of unhappy spouses requesting recipes for slow-acting poison concocted using household staples. And in one notable instance, I have been contacted by both spouses. As soon as lockdown is lifted I’ll be inundated with people suspecting grandad has been buried in the garden but until then — I’m so bored.” Sherlock crossed his arms and rolled into the foetal position. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to be bored at home.” Molly folded her arms over her chest and stared down at Sherlock giving him her best angry look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was so quiet Molly could hear the happy chirping of birds from the trees outside her window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If he has fallen asleep so help me god— </span>
  </em>
  <span> a solid thud from the bedroom caused Molly’s stomach to drop, nervousness replacing anger in a breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhhh. I should have known.” Sherlock gracefully uncurled himself to standing and moved towards her while sporting a wicked grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing. Probably just the laundry basket falling off the chair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Consulting Detective in full deduction mode circled her slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not how gravity works Molly. Laundry baskets don’t simply fall off chairs. They are usually knocked. By someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or Toby,” said Molly with as much authority as she could muster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or not.” Sherlock pointed to the chair in the corner where the sleeping Tabby was curled up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Confidence had settled behind Sherlock’s eyes. “You are isolating with him. Your mystery man. The one you refuse to introduce me to and ignore all questions about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think you two would get along.” Molly’s heart was pounding and she tried her best to sound convincing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m hurt.” His hands crossed over his heart Sherlock made a mockery of looking sincere.  “I am nothing if not charming. My mother made sure of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yea. No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As long as he isn’t a pub-going Essex boy whose idea of a good night is curry and watching snooker on the telly I promise you we will get on famously.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously get out of my flat.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unless— is he a minger? I mean, not compared to me, of course, my cheekbones are spectacular, but compared to someone normal looking. Are you worried I will make fun of his deformity?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. Perhaps not a physical impairment. Maybe he’s not so bright. Have no fear, I can adjust myself to deal with the intellectually feeble.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pair stared at each other intently, neither giving way.  Once again the bird chorus drifted into the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Sherlock who caved first and his tone was resigned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have kept him under wraps for what six— seven months? Must be serious especially if you are willing to self isolate with him. Your boyfriend.” He popped this word annoyingly, getting one last jab in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not my boyfriend.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay fine. Your partner.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and did air quotes as he walked towards the closed bedroom door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sherlock don’t do that. Please.” Clenching her jaw Molly worked to keep the fear off of her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ping of Sherlock’s phone redirected his hand from moving towards the door handle to his trouser pocket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking at his phone Sherlock gave an irritated grunt as he muttered to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mycroft has the worst timing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Holding her breath Molly watched as shock slowly slid across Sherlock. As he scrolled down the message his confident stance was replaced with hunched shoulders. Confusion was swirling behind his eyes when he looked up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently after all these years, Mycroft has found someone. And he’s not under Whitehall. He’s with her. It sounds serious.” Sherlock snorts and tries to make light of this new reality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who in the world would be desperate enough to pair up with my brother? She must be barking mad.” Sherlock huffed out a laugh, his eyes looking to Molly for confirmation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swallowing back tears and feeling fury bubbling up from her toes Molly glared at Sherlock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath the smile vanished from Sherlock’s face.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And he is your bedroom isn’t he?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes I was,” replied Mycroft as the bedroom door opened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seeing Mycroft, with his shoulders squared and chin held high crossing the room towards her made a smile appear on Molly’s face and her heart beat faster. For ages, she and Mycroft had been discussing when and how to tell Sherlock their news. It had been weighing on them both and now that their secret was out Molly felt a certain lightness she hadn’t felt for months. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The brothers stared at each other unblinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silently Mycroft’s long fingers entwined with Molly’s, causing Sherlock to sigh deeply and move his gaze to Molly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should add, she will also have the patience of a saint to put up with his family.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sincerity of these words caused the right side of Molly’s mouth to twitch upwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brother mine, I trust your intentions to my pathologist are honourable?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Completely,” replied Mycroft with confidence.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does our mother know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The question caused Mycroft’s grip on Molly’s hand to tighten ever so slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Name your price Sherlock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A pass that would allow me to travel freely through London so I may spend my days in the NSY cold case room.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft slowly shook his head, “Impossible.”  After a moment of contemplation, Mycroft countered, “Fifty-two-inch smart television with Netflix.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock considered this offer before replying,  “Subscription for two screens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Agreed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pair tapped feet instead of shaking hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A wide smile spread across Sherlock’s face and his arms opened as he looked to Mycroft for approval.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead. I checked your phone records and CCTV. You actually have been self-isolating and are quite a low risk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Molly found herself in Sherlock’s arms being hugged. “Congratulations.  He could do considerably worse.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear while tears formed in the corners of her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a step back Sherlock looked at Mycroft and Molly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I’ll leave you two in peace and head back to Baker Street. Best I can hope for this afternoon is a bit of serendipitous excitement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After only two steps Sherlock turned back around and Molly’s heart sank.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. One more thing. You might wish to get married while the guest restrictions are still in place — save yourself from the massive wedding circus mummy is hoping for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry Sherlock It’s all in hand,” said Mycroft as he showed Sherlock out.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ ‘ It’s all in hand.’ ” Molly was staring down her nose at Mycroft when he returned to the living room. “What exactly did you mean by that? If you think that was a proposal  -- you are sorely wrong," chuckled Molly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Mycroft could remove himself from the hole he had accidentally dug, his phone rang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am going to bloody kill him," muttered Mycroft through gritted teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft turned the screen so Molly could read MUMMY on the caller ID.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My beta noted that there really isn't an ending ... since we are in lockdown I'm leaving this a bit open ... Mummy might have something to say before this is all over with :)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If you have any ideas for more Mollcroft fun to add to this series -- let me know!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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